shameless fluff
by zorrie
Summary: title says it all : dgXglitch, of course! twoshot, no plot to speak of. what it lacks in purpose it makes up for in cute.
1. ticklishness

i have such a voracious appetite for fluff that i decided it was time to give back and write some myself. writing this was extremely fun, but took MUCH more skill than i had expected; to all you wonderful masters of fluff out there, i give credit. DG/Glitch. of course! falls into the plot-what-plot? category )

A piercing cry woke me with a start, and I froze instinctively, struggling to get my bearings. Shifting groggily and waiting for my eyes to adjust to the velvet darkness, I realized I was in my room. My _new_ room, in the eastern wing of the palace, which—while it was certainly grand and full of finery—I couldn't seem to adjust to. It was vast, open and formidably large, especially compared to the claustrophobic attic quarters I'd grown accustomed to. With an mmphff, I nestled closer to the comforting warmth at my side. Every morning it took a moment for me to realize where I was; apparently my subconscious hadn't gotten the memo that this was no dream. I really was in the OZ, and clicking my heels Judy Garland style wasn't bringing me back to Kansas.

A wiry arm wrapped around my waist. I pressed my cheek against Glitch's chest and inhaled the familiar woodsy scent, thankful I had a certain half brained someone to brighten my days, or comfort me in the dead of night as the case may be. All that body heat trapped under the blankets had me drowsy again, and Glitch made _such_ an awesome pillow. My lips curved into a smile against his skin, and I marveled at how stress evaporated effortlessly when I was near him. We inhaled, exhaled to the same rhythm, pulses pounding to the same beat. Mumbling incoherently in the throes of some dream, Glitch's hand grazed the small of my back and settled on the lean curve of my hip, fingers splayed.

Mind wandering to the topic of my room, I winced at the thought of the heirloom tatted lace that edged the bedspreads, curtains, valances…and the antique mahogany vanity, with carved feet and wrought iron knobs, was not my style. Of _all_ the things to agonize over, I chose blatantly tacky bedroom furniture--I really am an idiot sometimes. Ah, well. Given the absolute absence of noise pollution so common back home—the Other Side, I corrected myself—Glitch's steady, unhurried breathing was relatively raucous in the silence. Glancing at his face, I saw his eyes dart behind closed lids, an inane smile flickering briefly across his lips.

After a languorous stretch and a bit of wriggling, I rested my head once more on the other half of Glitch's pillow. Nose to nose, I contemplated kissing him. He looked so peaceful though, so much less haggard, that I couldn't bear to wake him--and I really was exhausted. Comforted by the caress of his breath on my skin and the tranquility of the frozen night itself with such silent, deep purple-blue shadows, my limbs grew heavy.

Secure in Glitch's arms, the world and its worries were a distant nightmare fading fast. Somewhere along the line I finally fell asleep, although just when I can't remember.

It was a beautiful day, despite the grey drizzle steadily beating down the unopened flowers, pulling the leaves from the trees, dripping down the windowpane in sparkling rivulets. Glitch, lying at my side, wrapped an arm around my waist and pressed his lips to the tip of my nose with a smile. It was my favorite type of day, but still…I pulled the covers over the two of us, loathe to leave the bed. The rhythm of the rain outside lulled me softly, and I felt myself relax into his arms, glad it was a Saturday. No pressure, no worries, no obligations. Re-instated princesses didn't get weekends off, but the workload was easier. More free time. Which was...useful.

Sensing my train of thought, Glitch shifted so I was lying on top of him. With a mischievous glint in those chocolate eyes, he traced swirling patterns on my back with feather light touches; I didn't have the heart to even resist, shivering at the sensation.

There was a silence that lay over the palace, and it draped around us like a comfortable, well worn blanket. I didn't want to speak, to puncture the peaceful stillness with a single syllable. Fingering the collar of his shirt, I looked at the absolute image of perfection in front of me; my hands itched with a craving to reach out and touch his face. Lips curving up slightly at the edges, Glitch tilted his head to capture my lips as if he'd heard my thoughts. Trailing my fingers up his cheek and running them through his hair, I fought to rein myself in; it was a struggle to refrain from plunging head over heels into a dangerously passionate kiss. Moving his lips down my neck and, slowly, to my shoulder, Glitch sighed slightly; this lazy weekend morning was stolen time. Outside, the lonely raindrops plummeted towards the ground like suicidal crystal beads, crashing to the ground, the sounds of their collision echoing in the emptiness.

Muted slivers of light slipped past my shuttered window. Resting my chin on Glitch's head, pressing my face into his hair, I closed my eyes. I felt him pressing his ear against my chest, listening to the chaotic beating of my fragile heart. Every thump echoed, tattooing its rhythm into our minds, as a single thought hung, unspoken, in the air. _Taboo, taboo_, each beat seemed to whisper, _taboo, _reminding us both of something already on our minds. exactly what this was, neither one of us was exactly sure. Liaison, affair, friends with benefits?—defining our strange relationship was something we religiously avoided. No point in wasting time talking when there were _plenty_ of other things to do…and it didn't matter what people called us anyway; their words couldn't change anything. I cupped my fingers under his chin and he met my gaze with a crooked smile. I tried to rearrange my face into a braver expression, rather than letting him see my apprehension and concern about where we went from here.

His eyes radiated love, and the warmth and compassion of it sent shivers down my spine. The depth of emotions I saw in his face, beautifully complex and almost frightening, mirrored my own. All the while, our hearts beat to the same rhythm, every breath synchronized.

He twined his arms around me and pulled me closer, until we were tangled together. The bedsprings creaked in protest, but neither of us batted an eye.

"Glitch…"

He pressed a kiss to the curve of my neck, and moved his mouth to my ear. "Hmm?"

"You should probably go." _But I want you to stay._

Somehow, I always managed to use just the wrong words. I'd meant to approach the topic subtly. We both knew that he couldn't sneak into my room at sunset _forever_. _You should go_—yeah, because that was real subtle. I might as well have dropped a bomb. Brilliant job, DG.

In the silence, crickets chirped.

I lost my nerve to talk. Instead I counted backwards in my head…three, two, one—boom?

Eventually Glitch pulled away and opened his mouth to speak but seemed to choke on his reply. There was bewilderment and hurt written in the slant of his eyebrows, the set of his jaw; but Glitch closed his eyes for a moment and smoothed his face. When he opened them, it was with an unreadable expression. I looked away.

"You're right; I don't belong here with you." The low monotone of his voice was painful to hear.

_Shit_. What could I say? 'I didn't mean it like that'? Words were not my friend.

I snaked an arm around his neck, catching it in the crook of my elbow and pulling him towards me until our foreheads touched. I wanted him to look in my eyes, see the answer there that I couldn't seem to give voice to—yet I couldn't meet his gaze, looked everywhere but there. Odd how I'd never noticed the delicate crow's feet near his eyes or the slight curve of laugh lines etched into his face…

"Liar." My voice was thicker than I'd expected, and it took a moment to clear my throat. "You'll always belong here. Don't you dare deny it."

Glitch raised a quizzical eyebrow and held me tighter.

"Just because you should do something doesn't mean I want you to do it! Just because I know we shouldn't be doing this doesn't make it any more possible for me not to," I moaned, squeezing my eyes shut and pressing my face into the pillow.

"Woah there," Glitch shushed me, "who said it was a problem? Right or wrong, does it even matter?" I smiled as he slung an arm around me and pressed a kiss between my shoulder blades. Laughing when I shivered from his touch, Glitch moved his lips to the nape of my neck before proceeding to nip the curve of my shoulder playfully. I couldn't help it; I squirmed helplessly.

"On a more serious note, today is the big occasion—highly influential figures congregating to confer and conceive a solution for this whole fiasco. I doubt they'll be successful, but desperate situations require desperate measures…we'll need to make an appearance, you know." I'd forgotten, of course. My good mood deflated as my heart sank to the depths of my stomach; Glitch continued speaking. "There'll have to be the customary, overly-elaborate feast, which may take hours--people are much more amicable when well fed and possibly inebriated. The discussion will follow all formalities a man can think of, and then some. This may very well drag on for weeks." Damn.

As he talked, Glitch absentmindedly outlined my collarbone with the calloused tip of his thumb in a way that made my toes curl, driving me mad in an oddly enjoyable way.

"There are so many things to be concerned about—the problems never seem to end. If I even let myself think about how many troubles this world has—and the fact that we're expected to solve them--I'm going to worry myself into a premature grave. But you make it awfully hard to think…"

"Is it such a bad thing?"

"I think I'll have to get back to you on that one. I mean, I don't think I mind it. It is kind of nice sometimes."

Glitch rolled his eyes towards the ceiling in mock superciliousness; "If you ever think you mind it, just say the word and I'm gone," he informed me, extending his hands palm up in a gesture of capitulation (though the mischievous glint in his eye was anything but).

"Hey! Who said you could be sarcastic?" I grinned, propping myself upon my elbows and attempting to cow him with a mighty glare. Despite my endeavors that irascible man had the audacity to resist my daunting scowl and _laugh_.

"GLITCH!" I roared, kicking his shin for added emphasis.

The accused turned the full force of his ochre eyes on me—foul play! Unfair!—and it his lip to stifle the offending laughter. "You _huffed_, DG. Like a sulking six year old being told 'no'—you actually huffed!"

"I did not huff! And anyway, I don't see how that's amusing. What? You huff all the time. You _huff_ too! Will you stop looking at me like that? You're the headcase, zipperhead, not me-- "

Glitch shut me up in mid-tirade by closing the distance between our lips, and I arched into him, surprised but definitely enjoying the ferocity of this sudden assault. With a smirk more wicked than I would've thought Glitch capable of, he slid a hand under my—his--shirt (I was wearing one of Glitch's button-downs...although the majority of its buttons had been ripped off by now) and tickled me. His fingers tapdanced impishly up and down my spine, skipped across my ribcage and along my sides. Immature and juvenile as the gesture was, I gave him the finger and tried to scowl. I had to bite my lip to keep from writhing, but even if it drew blood I'd rather that than give Glitch the satisfaction of making me scream in delight; damn that man to _hell_ for using my ticklishness against me. He was relentless.

"Stop holding back, Deej." The whisper in my ear burst through my restraint, and if I'd thought the bedsprings had been creaking in protest before then they were _screeching_ now. Note to self: invest in new mattress. We laughed and we rolled and in the mêlée of tangled limbs and groping hands, I somehow found myself pinned beneath him. This didn't usually happen, and by the expression Glitch wore he was as surprised as I was. Still, there was no reason I couldn't take advantage of the situation and have a little harmless fun. I wiggled my hips a bit, squirming until he straddled my waist. I generally did the straddling, and this role reversal was extremely amusing; all my efforts not to squeal in glee were utterly useless.

"Um, Deej?" he looked down at me, puzzled. "Is there something I'm missing?"

By now I was beginning to get a cramp from laughing so exuberantly, but I really couldn't stop. Any moment now I'd start flailing. "No, not really. I mean, you're not missing something funny." _You are something funny_…but I meant that in the most loving way possible, and if it'd tried to voice it, it wouldn't have come out right. "I'm just having one of those fits of hysteria."

"Oh," Glitch replied, eloquently. Peering up at him from my odd angle, my gaze drifted from his bemused face and wandered south. Because there was less strain on my neck. of course. From the corner of my eye I thought I saw him blush. Aww.

"DG?"

"Hmm?"

"What…er, what're you—"

"Admiring the view, that's all."

Apart from a choked cough, Glitch made no reply.

"You've got a nice chest," I said absently, my fingers itching to feel his skin. That would take too much effort, though, and I was pretty satisfied with my current arrangement.

Expressions of discomfiture and smug (though he tried to hide it) gratification vying for control of his features, I decided flustered Glitch was actually endearing. Automatically, he murmured a thanks before his (remaining?) mind even processed my comment. What's more, Glitch nearly returned the compliment in kind; "So do—" was as far as he got before the synapses kicked in, but we both knew what he'd been on the verge of saying. Glitch was outright humiliated, although there were certainly worse things he could've said.

"Remind me to embarrass you more often. You're kind of cute when you're mortified."  
I got no reply, which was okay--I hadn't been expecting one. I did, however, drag him down for a thorough kiss. Outside, the sun was rising, washing the grey skies with searing, vivid hues of pink and orange. But in our own world, our mini universe where nothing else seemed to be real, we were too furiously caught up in each other to register the breaking dawn (or the screeching bedsprings, thankfully. Nothing like a creaky mattress to kill the mood).  
fin

hopefully this was stomache-able; i've never done much fluff before xD

i know there are rough edges and areas where it flows a little..oddly; suggestions are definitely appreciated :D


	2. gestures

This little unintended update was inspired by eleanor-ariail from LJ who mentioned, "I wonder if Glitch knows what it means to be given the bird. That would also make an amusing little spin-off-y oneshot." and so here it is! part two, In which Glitch gets the finger but doesn't really know what it means. sadly, i don't own 'em :[

"DG," my mother sighed, "you know how much I wish this weren't necessary; still, your sister simply cannot claim her right to the throne."

I fisted my hands under the table, fingernails digging into my palms where no one could see them. "You're always telling me that—as though I don't understand. Mom, I _know_ Az is renouncing. I'm the one she told first, remember? What I can't comprehend is why i—me! DG!—need to—"

She bit her lip as I faltered, fork falling from her fingers with a delicate clatter. "Ahamo and I have decided on a date not three weeks from now for the ball. Try to give the suitors a chance." The pith and brevity of her words unmistakable, I absorbed myself in the cold waffles stacked on my plate. Spearing a piece with my fork and drenching it with syrup, I avoided making eye contact as I shoved the sodden lump into my mouth and chewed viciously.

We both knew I wasn't about to associate with any of the myriad, laughably awkward assortment of obsequious juveniles who came knocking on the door with flowers and chocolate for a woman whom they'd never met. The real relationship killer, veiled by myriad excuses and despite the fact that I'd almost tried in about half of the cases, was the ever-growing, mental list of Things That Glitch Had and [insert name here Lacked.

I'd thought—hoped—with that mutual understanding came an unspoken agreement to cease and desist; apparently not. We sat in silence, eating suddenly tasteless food and studying intently the tiling pattern on the floor, the doorframe's wooden molding, or something else equally interesting… like the crunch of toast as you stabbed it with the butter knife.

A chair scraped roughly against the floor and I looked up, surprised by the weariness in my mother's laggard posture, her usually ramrod-straight back slightly hunched, shoulders sagging infinitesimally. I admired her, although I didn't really like to admit it, for her fierce loyalty and commitment; envied the fire that flashed behind her eyes when she faced obstacles so daunting that others ran—those cowards who laughed and jeered as she fought the battles they were afraid of. At the present moment anger won out over awe, however, as I searched for a fatal flaw I could exploit to defeat those very qualities I admired.

Neither of us was easily derailed. My mother had her deceptive strength, quiet and understated as spun silk yet enduring as forged steel. I possessed my own patent obstreperousness that, while not as elegant, surpassed even my mother in stubborn mulishness. If anyone thought I was getting hitched to a pompous suitor for the good of the OZ, I was going to give them a piece of my mind (if they survived the introduction with my fist).

"Hey! What happened to making the O.Z. a democracy?"

I was answered by the click of heels as my mother, ever the exasperated hierarch, walked indignantly from the room and politely closed the door behind her.

&&&

Jaundiced and jaded, I sent another pretentious and inept boy on his way, probably to refine his courting skills and return, upon which I would have to repeat the tiring routine in which I pretended I cared. I slammed the door shut with more force than strictly necessary as the dispatched visitor finally vanished from sight. Still not satisfied by the harsh _thunk_, I wrenched the door open again and aimed a violent kick at it. Suddenly aware of footsteps in the hall, I leaned back against the wall and heaved a gusty sigh. Whoever it was, I didn't give a damn about what they said. _I_ was the one expected to entertain well-to-do, fawning and acne-covered idiots trying to woo me. Since the confrontation with my mother, it had become increasingly difficult to remain civil even with people I knew had my best interests at heart. Rage and apprehension swirled in the pit of my stomach, but I smothered them as the footsteps grew closer. Face carefully arranged in a blasé facade, I turned to confront—

"Glitch! Can't—breathe—" I gasped, as he crushed me to him in a massive hug. Just as my lungs were about to collapse, Glitch put me down, but refused to loosen his grip around my waist. Grinning, I reached up to truss his crazy hair.

"I heard someone abusing the door and knew it had to be you. Where've you been lately? I missed you." Damn it, but he was looking at me with that light in his eyes and the smirk on his lips that drove me nuts. Winding my arms around his neck and relaxing against his chest, I nipped Glitch on the neck and shivered as he kissed my forehead. "You look even more beautiful every time I see you, if that's even possible." He fingered the fabric of my dress. "Could you be persuaded to wear these more often?"

"Glitch!"

"I know you like jeans more—and trust me, your legs look amazing in them—but right now—"

"I can't believe you!" I tried hard not to roll my eyes at Glitch's pleading face. In the end I settled for extricating my arms from round his neck and crossing them across my chest; hopefully he'd get the hint. "I'm not wearing this corset for you. I'd prefer medieval torture to this…_thing_. Has it occurred to you that I'd rather look like a whale than be suffocated by clothing that acts like architecture? As soon as I can breathe again you'd better believe I'm going to give you a piece of my mind. Once I get this thing off…"

Of course he had to be a guy and take everything the wrong way. Of course. "If I don't get it off you first…"

"Glitch!"

"That's the third time you've said my name like that…I could get used to this," he smirked. "C'mon, is it my fault that every time I look at you I see you naked?"

"People can hear you, smartass! If you don't shut up—" If the heat in my cheeks were any indication, I was blushing furiously. Since when had Glitch started speaking in innuendos?

"You'll make me?"

I groaned. "Why do I get the feeling that my threats are entirely ineffective?" His answering grin was a little too devious, and I sank my head into my hands despairingly. "If you were a dog you'd be wagging your tail."

"You've made yourself scarce around here for the last several days, and I've been worried. And anyway, can you blame me for wagging my tail when the most wanted woman in the OZ is here in my arms?"

"Please don't bring that up," I mumbled, subdued, trying to enjoy the present moment without my current situation hanging like a sword over my head. "It makes me sick to think about it."

Glitch blinked, and studied my face with an expression of utmost seriousness. "Open your mouth and say 'ah.'" Baffled, I complied. Peering with one eye into my mouth, he shook his head in distressed disapproval, then proceeded to make a show of inspecting the rest of me--ears, eyes, and even nose. I cleared my throat and raised an eyebrow in inquiry; beaming, Glitch clasped me on the shoulder. "I've determined the nature of your ailment."

I didn't even know _what_ to say to that one. Correctly interpreting my silence, Glitch deflated a bit. I would have felt bad if, within a moment, he hadn't regained his exuberance and been, if possible, even more annoying buoyant as before. "Well? Don't you want to know?"

"Actually? Not really. What good is a diagnosis when it's lacking a cure?"

"But that's the thing! Now I know the malady, I can tell you the cure. Do you want to know? It's secret." Glancing back towards the hallway to make sure nobody was near, Glitch pressed his lips conspiratorially to my ear. "Lots and lots of s--"

In one fluid motion I recoiled, clenched my hand into a fist and _punched_. Burning with indignation, I didn't even wince at the sickening crack of collision as my knuckles met with his jaw. Glitch winced and rubbed his face, and I—anger unabated—flipped him the bird, scowling.

"Why the hostility? Indulge me, doll, and tell me what I did?" Amused brown eyes sparkling with merriment, Glitch stepped back, hands outstretched, palm up, in a gesture of subservience.

"Ugh! Is--that--_all_ you think about?" Arms flailing wildly, I struggled for words capable of conveying my insurmountable rage; I settled for giving Glitch the middle finger with both hands.

Face an expression of desultory vacillation, Glitch seemed to be racking his mind for an adequate answer. "Is this a trick question?" Good grief. I love the man, but there are times I wish I could strangle him. "Hey, why are you pointing your fingers at me?"

I stared at him blankly. Grabbing my wrist and prying my phalanges apart one by one, Glitch wiggled my middle finger. "This. Didn't your mother…erm, nurture units ever tell you it's impolite to point at people?"

"Didn't your mother ever teach you that it's impolite to act like a nymphomaniac? And I wasn't pointing at you—it's a gesture, from where I grew up."

"Oh. I see," Glitch nodded, completely bypassing my deprecating retort and moving on to the subject of giving someone the finger. "What's it a gesture of?"

"Adoration. Friendship. Amity, good will." The words saturated with sarcasm, I rolled my eyes and withdrew my hand from Glitch's grasp. Linking his arm with mine, Glitch flashed a disarming smile and strolled down the hall with me in tow. We wandered aimlessly, and at one point he even broke into a skip.

"That's odd, then. I thought, forgive me if I'm wrong, that you were frustrated at me. Wasn't that what the punch was about?"

I risked a glance at his face, trying to discern whether he was joking or not. I sure hoped he was, anyway. Rounding the corner, we nearly collided with Ahamo; I smiled in spite of myself at the sight of him, walking as quickly as humanly possible towards his office without breaking into an ungainly run.

"Good morning DG, Glitch." He paused at the sight of our linked arms, but refrained from commenting.

"Good morning to you too!" Glitch gushed, a bit too enthusiastically. Extending his arm toward Ahamo as though about to shake hands, Glitch clenched all fingers but one. Mouth suddenly dry, I blinked in disbelief at the unmistakable gesture. My father stared for a moment at the offending middle finger aimed at him, and threw me an awkward, questioning glance.

"Well, then. I, er, have an—" he began dazedly, unsure what exactly was going on.

"—Something Extremely Important to attend to immediately, right, dad?" Without waiting for a reply, I detached myself from Glitch and ushered Ahamo on his way. "Nice talking to you! Move along, there, I know you're in a hurry to get—wherever you're going…away from here."

Glitch, what-did-I-do-now? written clearly on his face, sighed. I opened my mouth, about to speak, but thought better of it. Slinging an arm around his shoulders, I steered us towards the back entrance, intending to take a walk through the garden and hopefully clear a few matters up. First on the list was definitely Sarcasm.


End file.
